Catch a Falling Star

by Beth K. Vogt

  “Okay, thanks.” The odor from the wilted flowers sitting in the glass vase on the desktop caused Kendall to take a step back. “Are his parents with him?”

  “I believe so. Although his mother mentioned going to get some items so that she could stay overnight with him.”

  “Thanks again. I’m going to check in on him before I leave.”

  Kendall walked toward the curtained-off area that provided the Wells family some privacy. The ER was busy on a Saturday, with techs and nurses and physicians moving back and forth between bays. Telephones rang nonstop. From behind one curtain, a small child wailed.

  “Knock knock.” Kendall slid back the curtain just a few inches. “May I come in?”

  She waited for Nicholas’s parents to wave her in before stepping over beside the gurney where their son lay sleeping. With his heart rate up, his color had improved. Beneath the blanket, his chest muscles twitched in response to the external pacemaker. Kendall touched his forehead, watching the monitors beside his bed to get a reading on his heart rate and blood pressure.

  “Well, he’s looking better.” She couldn’t hold back the audible sigh of relief. “I think we’ll see marked improvement from here on out.”

  “The ER doctor says Nicholas is going to the ICU.” Even as she spoke to Kendall, Mrs. Wells never took her eyes off her son.

  “He needs to be there until he’s stable enough to be off all this technology.” Kendall reached over and squeezed the woman’s hand. “I know this was so frightening for both of you. I’m sorry this happened.”

  “Dr. Parker told us the Kupu would help build up Nicholas’s immune system—” Mr. Wells gripped the metal rail that ran alongside Nicholas’s bed.

  “When did Dr. Parker talk with you about the, um, supplement?”

  “A few weeks ago, wasn’t it?” Mrs. Wells looked at her husband for confirmation. “He called us. He seemed so concerned about helping Nicholas get healthier.”

  “He called you?”

  “Yes. We assumed you gave him our phone number.” Mrs. Wells twisted her hands together in her lap. “He identified himself as a colleague of yours. Told us how you both cared about building up patients’ immune systems—”

  Mr. Wells stared at his son. “And now he’s in the hospital . . . When I get the chance to talk to that guy . . .”

  Only after she had a chance to talk with him first. And found out how he gained access to her patients’ phone numbers.

  “What did Dr. Parker say to you about the supplement?”

  “I don’t recall, exactly. He said it was new . . . that he’d be willing to let us try the first round free of charge.” Mrs. Wells shook her head, as if trying to make sense of what happened. “I thought that was nice. He overnighted us the first bottle.”

  “Do you have the bottle with you? Can I see it?”

  “We gave it to the ER doctor.” Mr. Wells looked at his wife, who confirmed his statement with a quick nod. “I think he gave it to the police.”

  Of course he did. So the police could investigate the medication. And Heath Parker. And her.

  She had a plan. She would stay calm—at least until Heath Parker showed up. Then all bets were off.

  Kendall scoped out the lobby of the Antlers Hotel, where Heath was staying until he found a permanent home. The warm light from the modern chandeliers ought to soothe her spirit. The stone fireplace surrounded by leather chairs invited her to sit and relax. But at this point, Kendall doubted if she’d ever get the adrenaline coursing through her veins out of her system.

  Of course, she’d never been to Heath’s hotel room. He always picked her up at her loft, or she met him at church, or at the restaurant, like the time she met him for dinner with his alleged board. Kendall wasn’t sure what Heath Parker was up to anymore, so she had no idea what those people were doing.

  When she left the hospital and went home, she still believed Heath would call her. But by the time eight o’clock rolled around, she gave up hope. Maybe her “Call me right away. We need to talk about Nicholas Wells’s being admitted to Memorial’s pediatric ICU thanks to your so-called supplement” message scared him off.

  Fine. If Heath wasn’t going to call her, she’d find him. Kendall dumped her ratty jeans and short-sleeved shirt into the clothes hamper, showered, and then selected a pair of black dress pants and a black dress blouse, paired with wedge-heeled shoes. Not that she cared what she wore to confront the man. But she wanted to be able to look in Dr. Parker’s eyes—or as close as possible.

  She approached the receptionist, hoping she had the appropriate I’m-here-to-meet-someone persona. “Hello, I’m a friend of Dr. Heath Parker. Would you please ring his room and let him know I’m here to see him?”

  The young woman’s blue eyes, made up à la Cleopatra, widened, but she only said, “One moment, please” before calling his room.

  Satisfaction, at last.

  Short-lived satisfaction.

  “I’m sorry, but Dr. Parker isn’t answering his phone. May I take a message for him?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll wait in the lobby.”

  Kendall chose a chair facing the lobby’s glass doors. Is this what it feels like to be on a stakeout? She always thought it would be more . . . thrilling. Right now exhaustion warred with frustration—and the two were at a stalemate.

  The battle continued with every glance at her iPhone. Within thirty minutes, she paced the sand-colored marble floors of the lobby, aware that the receptionist watched her movements. What could she do, order her to leave? Demand she sit down? An hour later, Kendall changed her walking tour and paced the carpeted hallway to the left of the main lobby. She debated calling Rachel or one of her other friends to vent, but she needed all her attention focused on what she was going to say when Heath finally showed up. She only hoped he made an appearance sometime before breakfast tomorrow.

  Just before midnight, Kendall heard Heath’s voice coupled with a woman’s sultry laugh.

  Interesting. Not that she was here to ask about her. They’d never used the word exclusive. Shame on her for assuming that’s what the man meant with all his talk of falling in love. Well, shame on her for a lot of things, apparently.

  Kendall stood, positioning herself in the middle of the lobby so that Heath and whoever he was with couldn’t miss her. Out of the corner of her eye, she couldn’t help but notice that the receptionist leaned on the desk, ready to watch the showdown.

  The man walked into the lobby, his arm around Leslie what’s-her-name’s waist, his jacket draped over her shoulders. No wonder the woman was cold. Her dress skimmed her thighs. And what was that old-fashioned saying about “displaying your goods in the shop window”? Appropriate.

  “Heath.”

  Kendall’s voice sliced through their laughter. Heath looked away from Miss-Forgot-to-Wear-a-Complete-Dress. Stopped. A smile of satisfaction curved Leslie’s lips when she caught sight of Kendall. Caught in the act—and proud of it.

  “Let’s skip the what-are-you-doing-here question. I’ve called you all day about my patient being hospitalized. He used your supplement—and I use that word loosely—and had a life-threatening reaction.”

  “I’m sorry to hear your patient is sick, Kendall.” Heath leaned in and whispered something to Leslie. Patted her tush as she headed for the elevator. “Why does that concern me?”

  “He had a reaction to something you gave him, Heath.”

  “So he—or rather, his parents say.” Heath didn’t even bother to look at her, preferring to watch Leslie as she stood by the elevator, waiting for the doors to open.

  “Are you suggesting that supplement is harmless?”

  “I’m saying that previous tests on Kupu have shown no serious side effects.”

  Kendall paced closer, grabbing his arm to force his attention back to her. “Heath, what were you thinking, giving a supplement to my patients without consulting me first?”

  “We’re not partners, Kendall. I don’t need to consult you.�
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  “You talked with my patients. In my office.”

  “It was nothing more than a friendly conversation. A suggestion.” Heath loosened his green-and-blue-striped tie. Yawned. As if the conversation bored him. “They were free to try the supplement or not.”

  “Do you realize the police questioned me? That you’ve implicated me in I don’t know what?”

  “We’ve talked about how important nutrition and supplements are for kids with asthma and allergies. You’ve agreed with me about the importance of building up patients’ immunities.” He looked her up and down. Smirked. “And you did attend a board meeting . . .”

  His words and actions clicked in place like the pieces of a puzzle. Heath Parker wasn’t pursuing her for love and marriage and a family. He was setting her up . . . using her as a front for his . . . whatever this was . . . illegal supplement.

  Kendall struggled to keep her voice low. “You tabled the discussion the night I came to dinner. I had no idea you were giving it to people—”

  “It’s the only way to test the efficacy of the medicine. You’re a doctor, you know that.”

  “That’s what the FDA is for, Heath.”

  “I am not wasting the time and money of the FDA. Red tape. I’ve seen the benefits of this day-to-day on the mission field. If I can do my own tests, develop my own data, compile the research—”

  Kendall pressed her fingers against her temples. “Do you realize what you’ve done? How you’ve put me at risk?”

  “The ends always justify the means, dear Kendall. I had the supplement. You had the population base I needed. And the reputation.”

  “Are you saying that more of my patients are taking this drug?”

  “Of course. It’s the only way to get adequate results.”

  Kendall didn’t know how it happened. One minute she was trying to unravel all the information Heath Parker dumped on her while trying to figure out how he’d gotten access to her patient records. The next minute she slapped him. Hard. Her palm and fingers stung, but from the red outline of her fingers on his face, Heath’s skin throbbed, too.

  “Wha—?” Heath stumbled back. Kendall knew she had his attention—that she’d rocked him out of his complacency.

  “I want every single name, do you understand me? Every. Single. Name. Get them to me by tomorrow morning. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” Kendall advanced on him again, poking her finger in his chest. “You may think you can mess with me, Parker, but you won’t hurt my kids.”

  “Come here, Sully.”

  Kendall patted the foot of her bed, inviting the dog to climb up next to her. He only needed to be asked once. Invitations to sleep with her were rare. Sully plopped his front paws on the patterned comforter and then wiggled his way on top of the mattress, finally positioning himself in the center of the bed.

  Kendall didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around the dog’s furry neck, pulling him close.

  “What happened to ‘older is wiser,’ huh?” Kendall lay back against the pile of pillows, pulling the dog with her so that he stretched out alongside her. “I’m on the wrong side of thirty-five and getting played like I was in high school. Only this hurts worse.”

  Except she wasn’t going to cry over Heath Parker. After homecoming, she cried for weeks over Phillip—not that anyone ever knew it. She came home from the dance, stuck her dress in the back of her closet, and resorted to hiding out in the garage with her dad. But at night, as the other girl’s words replayed in her head, she muffled sobs with her pillow.

  And the other resident—the one who’d showed up for their first date and announced he realized they weren’t right for each other? Yeah, there’d been tears then, too. But not for as long. And that time she threw herself into her residency. Her patients. Her purpose.

  “How did I not see it? Am I that desperate?”

  Was she? Sully wasn’t answering, so it was up to her. Desperate or not, reality slapped her in the face: She was thirty-six. And alone. She thought she’d been picked. At last, someone thought she was enough.

  Oh, yeah. She’d been picked, all right. Heath Parker chose her to take the fall for his drug scam. Well, she wasn’t going down without a fight. Why she threatened him with her “lawyer,” she couldn’t figure out. She had an accountant, not a lawyer. So far, the investigation wasn’t about her. If she needed a lawyer, she’d get one—someone who could make sure Heath Parker never hurt another kid again, and could wipe the smug grin off his face at the same time. There was one thing she could do: report him to the state medical board. Was he even licensed to practice in Colorado? She’d assumed too much about Heath Parker.

  She knew she wasn’t the one really hurt in all this. She needed to remember Nicholas. He was the one spending the night in the hospital, not her. Kendall rubbed the heels of her palms against her eyes, wishing the tears would come and wash away the ache.

  There was no need for her to have any tests run. She’d get over having her heart broken.

  Not that Heath Parker broke her heart.

  But Griffin Walker had.

  No, no . . . this was not the time to think about Griffin Walker—Mr. Do-Not-Cross-This-Line. Heath Parker was all charisma and charm. Griffin Walker could audition for a reality show about bachelors not looking for true love.

  And Kendall had to fall in love with him?

  Yes, yes, she did. The man threw up roadblock after emotional roadblock, and Kendall’s heart vaulted over every single one.

  What was wrong with her? Was she so “less than” that no man would ever want to marry her? It sure looked that way. No matter how she tried, her longed-for golden ring—career, marriage, family—would always be right beyond her grasp.

  She was the one who skewed the grading curve in her college classes. The “gunner” in medical school. Always aiming for the top grades, the top 1 percent. And she always achieved success.

  Excelled.

  Won.

  “But I’m the loser tonight, Sully.” Kendall hugged the dog tighter as he licked her face. “Rejected. Played. Wow. Can it get any worse? Don’t answer that.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Colorado Springs just wasn’t big enough for Griffin and his ex-wife. He hadn’t been skulking around town holding his breath, hoping not to run into her again—not really. But the what-if of meeting Tracey lurked in the back of his mind ever since he’d seen her at the restaurant.

  And now here she was, entering the lobby of the Y as he dragged his sweaty body out of the gym. He knew he should have skipped the workout when Doug bailed on him. But no. He had to stay the course, ignore the vertigo dancing an off-kilter jig in his head, and push himself through a Spin class led by a fitness sadist.

  “Well, this is a surprise.” Tracey stopped walking, pulling Griffin up short. “I had no idea you worked out here.”

  The fact was, the woman knew nothing about him, not after a dozen years of silence. Any intel she had about him was all hearsay, passed through the infamous cadet alumni grapevine.

  “Tracey.” Griffin shifted his canvas workout bag to his other hand, scanning the area behind her. Where were her replacement husband and too-cute-to-be-true kids to complete the happy family his ex had created?

  “Just me today. Todd didn’t feel like working out, so I left him home on dad-duty with the trio. We’re still getting settled in—we bought a house in the Briargate area.”

  “Congratulations.” At least God hadn’t been so cruel to have them set up “Home Sweet Home” in his neighborhood.

  Griffin couldn’t resist assessing the woman he’d been married to for six years. She’d changed—but then, twelve years would change anyone. He had to admit she still looked good. She wore her medium-length auburn hair down, skimming her shoulders. Back when they were married she kept it pulled back and pinned up—easier to deal with. There were fine lines around her eyes, but they didn’t detract from Tracey’s classic beauty. He’d always liked how her moss-green eyes revealed her moods—unt
il Tracey settled into one unshakable emotion: resentment.

  “We’ve both gotten older.” Tracey touched the side of her face as if uncomfortable under his scrutiny. “Older looks good on you—it usually does on a man. I like the gray in your hair.”

  “Thanks. You . . . look good, too, Tracey.” From her coordinated outfit of sleek black yoga pants with a matching black-and-lime-green top paired with trendy tennis shoes, she still approached shopping as an art form.

  “Oh, just tell me that I look exhausted and get it done with.” She sighed as she ran her fingers through her hair, tossing it back as if being tired was no big deal. “I have three young kids. I’m always worn out.”

  Griffin tried to think of an appropriate response. Something like You don’t look that bad. Having a conversation after years of silence wasn’t all that simple. And really, what did they have to say to each other? He’d made his choices and she’d made hers—even if her overflowing life looked nothing like the “No Kids Allowed” one she’d demanded from him.

  “I was surprised to hear you were flying a desk, Griff. Being a pilot is your life. What happened?”

  Now she was interested in his career?

  “Nothing that won’t be cleared up in a few weeks.”

  “You get in trouble?”

  “No.” He could continue to evade her questions or put a stop to her curiosity. “I . . . had some problems with vertigo. I’m better now. I expect the medical board to reinstate me to flying status again.”

  “I hope so. You’re one of the best pilots around.”

  Imagine that—a compliment from Tracey. Not that it mattered to him. Let the woman think what she wanted about him. They’d had their chance at a relationship and botched it. Then she’d left him reeling with the repercussions of a decision he couldn’t undo.

  “I didn’t get a chance to ask the other day—how are your parents? I think it’s great they let Ian come visit you.”